


Take Your Pick

by ElliotWrites



Category: Video Blogging RPF, markiplier - Fandom
Genre: A Date With Markiplier, And Who Could The White Aura-d Savior Be?, And crude, Because That's How He Is, But More Lowkey, Choose Your Own Adventure, Choose Your Own Character, Choose Your Own Ending, Dark Will Be Abusive, Darkiplier Mark Fischbach, Dialogue Heavy, F/M, Gen, Google Will Be A Little Shit, Hallucinations, I Blame Tumblr, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Bad At Tagging, I'm Bad At Titles, I'm Going to Hell, I'm Sorry, Let Me Post A Few Chapters, Oops, Same With Wilford, Weapons, What Have I Done, Why Did I Write This?, You'll understand later on, YouTube, and manipulative, future smut, guess you'll have to find out, well okay a spin off
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-07
Updated: 2017-05-09
Packaged: 2018-10-29 00:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10842768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElliotWrites/pseuds/ElliotWrites
Summary: "Take your pick," he says, his hands flying up to gesture to the silhouettes of men that had somehow appeared and were now standing behind him, each with their own aura about them. "Anything of... four different choices— more than he had ever given you." The silhouettes begin to shine, each giving off different colors than the others, some giving you a sense of security, some giving you the opposite. "And let's see how far down this rabbit hole really goes."(Choose Your Own "Partner" story with Markiplier's egos)





	1. Intro

One moment you were having a happy, yet wallet-heavy, date with a man you had met online the other day. He had brought you out for dinner, then brought you to a theater, where you two now stood in front of the doors, thinking about which show you should see. He said it was perfect, but was it really? Neither of you had any idea what was in store for either of the shows, the only thing to base it off of being a few posters quickly hung up on the doors leading to the main room. One was a picture that was crudely photo shopped of two men about to kiss, arms around each other, breasts and muscles unrealistically placed on the bodies that obviously didn't belong to the people. The other was a picture of a skeleton with bulging eyes, a sideways baseball cap, and a guitar.

"Do we see the romance,  _ Love Too Soon _ , or the horror,  _ The Dark Mark _ ? The romance? Or the horror? The  _ romance _ ? Or the  _ horror _ ? The  **_romance_ ** ? Or the  **_horror_ ** ?"

"...Um... I've always been a horror type of person, you know? A-And I think it's kinda funny, 'cause, well, Mark is your name.  _ The Dark Mark _ . Get it...?" You laugh humorlessly before sighing, giving up on the joke. You look down at your shoes, new ones you had bought special for the occasion, and bite the inside of your cheek as the gut-wrenching feeling of  _ I just failed this date _ rose up inside of you.

"Hey, good idea! I've actually never seen this play before, (Y/N), and I don't even know who made it," he says with a laugh, giving you a sweet, encouraging smile. You smile back and are about to thank him, but he continues. "So, it could be a fun adventure. Let's give it a try, huh?" He opens the door and goes to hold it open for you, but is interrupted.

The man behind the counter (who looks weirdly like one of the men on the poster for  _ Love Too Soon _ ) mumbles, "Good luck." He oddly stares at you two, his eyes shifting from your frame to your date's before Mark laughs awkwardly, nodding to the man.

"...O-Okay. Alright." He clears his throat and waves to the man with a joking  _ bonjour _ , then heading in, forgetting to hold the door for you as he had intended to earlier. "Uh,  _ anyway _ , I, uh, I don't know if I've mentioned this before, but I'm a—" His hand goes up in the air, doing a few fancy swirls to give his words a cheesy effect. "Patron of the arts, and uh, I certainly love new theaters, new plays, new  _ artists _ . You know... It all just  _ stokes the embers in my soul _ ." He giggles for a second, stepping back, but soon speaks again, not to your surprise. "But, uh, anyway, I hope this is a good one and... well... any chance to spend more time with you is good in my book— take a seat!" He gestures to the seat next to him and you both sit down. You look around, but nobody else is there, which creeps you out a little, but also makes this date a little more personal and intimate.

"Oh, so, how excited are you fo—"

"You want some popcorn?" He turns to you and puts the container out towards you.

"Sure... Sure, thank y—"

"Ooh, it's starting!" He pulls the container away from you and you have to hold in a laugh so you don't come off as rude.

Your focus turns to the stage, where a single table sits in the dead center. You turn over to Mark to ask him something, but he isn't there when you do so. Your heart rate picks up and you look back at the stage, which begins to bug out, as if you were in a game. You rub your eyes, but it does nothing to help the flashes of colors going across the stage. A loud creaking noise hits your ears and you wince at the pain it sharply hits your head with. Your vision gets blurrier and blurrier, the room turning into a kaleidoscope of rooms after rooms after rooms, until suddenly... it all  **stops** . You close your eyes, hoping it'll stop the pain, but upon opening them, there is a man who looks much like Mark standing in front of you. His eyes are less welcoming and more menacing, though. This is not your Mark.

"Did you miss me?" His face is very close to yours, so very close that you can feel his breath upon your face. Accompanying his voice is a loud creaking and a high pitched ringing that resonates in your ears the entire time your eyes follow his own, taking note of how he moves backwards, but his feet never move once. "I missed you...  _ very much _ ." His voice is all over the place, not only in pitch, but it's actually surrounding you, entering your senses in every direction and way possible. His body backed up completely, allowing you to take in his black suit that fades into red, blue, and green as it gets further, giving you an immediate headache. "I've been waiting a  _ long time _ to see you again."

"I-I've never seen you in my li—" Your entire body is shaking, so your words naturally follow suit, but he cuts you off.

"I've been pushed aside... Replaced..." He stops for a moment to put his hands behind his back, giving you a dark glare before continuing. "Mocked..." You go to apologize, but then realize that it's better to just let him be and let him continue talking. "And then _he_ had the gall not to invite me to his little _adventure_ with you." He shakes his head, your vision breaking and glitching as he does so. "No more," he says, his lips curling into a smile that you feel leaking with sadism. "Never again." Your vision bursts with faded colors, an explosion of reds and blues and greens galore spurting across your vision, the ringing in your ears getting louder and louder. The man gets closer again, his voice now full of anger, aggression, and impatience. " **I've been waiting** ** _patiently_** **, he** ** _promised_** **he would let me in again!** I'm tired of giving people a choice... but I suppose I could give you  _one last option_." He clears his hands and everything glitches for a moment again, something different, but not so prominently that it draws your attention from his now much more distorted words.

"Take your pick," he says, his hands flying up to gesture to the silhouettes of men that had somehow appeared and were now standing behind him, each with their own aura about them. "Anything of... four different choices— more than he had ever given you." The silhouettes begin to shine, each giving off different colors than the others, some giving you a sense of security, some giving you the opposite. "And let's see how far down this rabbit hole really goes."

One had a pink aura. This one seemed to be a pink outline of a man holding out suspenders, holding something in his hand that could only be presumed to be a weapon. A gun, maybe?

Another had a black aura. This one was almost scarily similar to the man, no... the  _thing_ standing in front of you, gesturing to what seemed to be himself. Was this a trick?

The next had a blue aura. This one had an outline of glasses and something about him seemed to glow. Was it his chest? Or the not-so-blue redness of his eyes?

Your final choice had a white aura. Or was it yellow? Or was it none at all? It seemed to radiate safety and warmth and comfort, but how could you trust him so easily?

"So take your pick... Show me what you've got, and maybe we'll have a good date after all." He straightens himself up, his head twitching and twisting and turning. His lips twist into a sinister smile as the words leave your lips...

"I choose..."


	2. Pink 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You pick the pink silhouette and as soon as you come to, you're semi-regretting it.  
> (There will be a few more with Wilford, this isn't the end, don't worry

“I choose that one,” you say, pointing to the upper left of him. He checks who it is for a moment, and you can feel the room grow darker by the second.

“You want _that_ one? I… Respect your decision, but… I think you ought to reconside—”

“Well, I respect your opinion, but I choose that one.” You raise an eyebrow, coming off as more defiant than you meant to, especially with this man. He could probably snap your neck with a lift of his finger, so you had to be more careful in the future. You can see his eyes grow more fierce, but he puts his arms down and all of a sudden, the pink glowing grows ever stronger.

“Fine. Have fun. His name is Wilford Warfstache, and I hope he doesn’t get too trigger happy around you, ‘cause I’m not saving you this time.”

“Saving me? What do you mean saving me?”

“Unimportant. This may hurt a little, (Y/N).”

“How do you know m— Fuck! What the h-hell?!” Your pained mumbles fall silent after a few moments, his fingers touching your forehead and causing the numbing pain, your vision spotting with black. You try to ask him what’s happening, but you begin falling instead, your mind, and thus your limbs, going blank. You hit the ground harshly and close your eyes as he presses his fingers to your forehead.

—

When your eyes open, you’re in a completely different room than anything you’d seen today, covered in pink, then coated with white touch-ups and stuffed _everything_ surrounding you. Was it even still today? You have no idea how much time has passed, but you don’t have much more time to figure it out, as a man dressed in a nice outfit with a pink mustache… How the hell had he managed that? It obviously didn’t match his brown hair that fell in front of one of his eyes, yet you didn’t mind that as much as the bump in his pocket.

“Darling, you’re finally awake!” He walks over to you, a smile plastered on his face. “It’s almost time for the show, you know. We can’t have you lying in bed bein’ all lazy while I’m up in front of the people, right?”

“Oh, um… yeah, I’m sorry.” You clear your throat and push the soft pink blanket off of you. Quickly realizing what you were wearing, only pink underwear, your face flushing a shade to match your outfit.

“Aw, don’t be shy. You chose that, after all!”

“Chose what, exactly?”

“That outfit last night! Don’t play dumb with me, baby.” He leans down and boops your nose, pulling the blanket off you again.

“Right… right… sorry, W-Wilford,” you mumble, the name feeling foreign yet also familiar on your lips, as if you had said it a million times, but couldn’t remember them too well. “Can I get dressed?”

“Mhm!” He doesn’t move at all, standing right by the bed.

“...In private, maybe?”

“Nope! You’re a sly little thing, aren’t you? I know you’ll go snooping where you shouldn’t, so I’m staying right here,” he says, laughing deeply, grabbing your arm to pull you up and out of bed. You yelp, the air going practically right through your clothing, the coldness hitting you like little bullets, gradually moving from your abdomen to your thighs and shoulders.

“Can you at least turn around? It’s kinda… you get it…”

“I suppose, but don’t take too long.” He spins around, letting you move to the large closet, filled with tons of frills and poofy skirts and heels.

“Uh, Wilford?”

“Yeeeesss, Darling?”

“Is there anything that isn’t pink, going to consume my body, or itchy in here?” You flip through all the clothes, but see nothing that you want to put on.

“Why, you don’t like my selection for you? I tried really hard with that!” His voice begins to get slightly angry, but he walks over to you in a rather calm way, confusing you on if he’s actually angry.

“No, no, I really like it, I swear! Just… I want to be more natural f-for, uh, for the people today!”

“Oh, you’re right… Always the smartest beauty, you are,” he says, pressing a kiss to your hair. You resist the urges to slap him or shrink back, smiling at him instead, not wanting to press your luck with this man that you didn’t even know. He pushes past everything and grabs a more sensible, well fitting outfit that you didn’t want to throw into a fire. Each piece is made of a soft, pale pink material that you wanted to feel for forever. “Here you are. If you need it tightened or loosened, just tell me.”

“Thanks. Means a lot.” He turns back around when you finish talking, letting you strip, then fit yourself into the shirt and pants (so tight they might as well just be tights) that clung to you, but not so much that it made you hate it. “Woah, this fits perfectly. And I… don’t look horrible in it…”

“(Y/N), you could never look horrible in anything.” His hands trace his suspenders to keep himself busy and he looks you up and down one last time before nodding. “I think we’re ready to go.” He takes your hand and begins to walk towards the door, forcing you to follow.

“Hey, Wilford?”

“Hmmmm?”

“How many people are we talking exactly? Like, is it a few folding chairs here and there or a theatre full of people?”

He raises an eyebrow at this, obviously thinking you knew about this. He rolls his eyes, giving you a small sassy look before explaining, “I host a game show, Darling. It’s going to be on live tv and we’ll have an audience filled with _hundreds_ of people ready to see your beautiful face.”

“Holy shit.” You stop in your tracks, your eyes widening. Hundreds of people were about to see you on live tv with a man who you didn’t know, but seemed to know you better than you knew yourself.

“Yes, I know, but it’ll be alright. If anything happens, just stand behind me and _I’ll protect you_.” He gives you a soft look before continuing to walk, slower this time, so you don’t panic and stop again.

“Okay… Okay…”

—

You soon arrive at the studio, where you can hear the murmurs of the crowd from your place next to Wilford on the stage. You have no idea what’s going on and you sure as hell have no idea what this game show consists of. There’s a curtain blocking you and him from the crowd, but you can still feel eyes on you that aren’t his. Looking around, you see nobody except the producers and editors rushing around, trying to desperately organize everything before the curtain opens.

“So, I’ll do most of the talking, but when I introduce you, you’ll need to just tell the audience who you are and that you’re my guest co-host for the day,” he says, bending down to your height. He studies for face for a moment, then stands back up. “Get ready. Less than a minute till we go.”

"Alright... Uh, hey, does my hair look okay? I didn't brush it yet, so..."

"Your hair looks fine. Perfect, even." His eyes and words are sincere, so you can't help but smile.

Then the curtain opens. And your heart speeds up to beating a mile a minute at how many people there are.

"Welcome back to the final round of _Disc Of Riches,_ everybody!" Wilford steps forward, taking your hand in his, leading you to the front of the stage. The people all cheer and clap, murmuring to themselves before Wilford clears his throat and gestures over to the others, who you guessed were the contestants, standing at their designated place. "We've made it here after a long time, everybody else is dead and gone, but you guys have survived," he says, smiling widely at everybody. "Today, I have a special guest with me! Welcome today's co-host, (Y/N)!"

"Uh, hi," you say, smiling and waving at everybody, trying to match Wilford's enthusiasm.

"Well, anyway, we got blue boy in third place with $4,321! We got lady demin over there with $6,823! And bringing up the big guns is the man in the stupid vest— it's Mr. $10,228!" He claps and encourages the crowd to do so as well, which they do, cheering for all three. "I don't even  _care_ about your names, but I know that you're in first place, which means  _you_ get to have a chance to solve this puzzle, unless you want to try to get another letter in there!"

"Uh, I think I'm going to solve the puzzle!" The boy smiles and you can tell he's shaking with excitement.

"Oh, well, look at the cahonies on this boy here! Alright, go on!"

"Um,  _do it... do it... come on kill me... I'm here... come on... do it now kill me!_ " He cheers and smiles, knowing he got it right. Everybody cheers and chatters, also knowing he got it, but Wilford reaches into his pocket. He pulls out a gun and points it at the boy, pushing you behind his back.

"Alright, if you say so. I mean, that makes sense to me." He pulls the trigger, sending everybody into a panic and the boy falling to the floor. You scream and try to run to the boy to help him, but Wilford holds you back, confused as to why you had screamed in his ear.

"Where'd you go?! What's going on?!" His shouts are silent compared to the screams, but he seems oddly calm for having just shot an innocent boy. "Why, he asked to—" He shoots the boy a few more times, sending tears to your eyes in horror. "—He asked me to do it!"

"What. The. Fuck?!" You push him away from you and make a mad dash backstage, wanting to get away from this man. 

_You'll protect me, my ass._


	3. Black 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You pick the black silhouette and as soon as you realize you shot your date, you intensely regret it.  
> (Double update???? Two chapters in one day???????? Damn, I'm on a roll! Enjoy!)

“I choose that one,” you say, pointing to the upper right of him. He checks who it is for a moment, then smirks to himself. 

“Good choice, but… why do we need to choose in life?” The scene around you switches, and suddenly you’re sitting at a table with him, much like the one you were at with Mark such a short time ago. The plates and glasses were empty and glitching with every movement of this man’s head, which was a lot. 

“I-I don’t know…”

“If dinner is what you want, then I can provide. And I can take you anywhere you want to go… I can especially take you places where you  _ don’t  _ want to go.” A silhouette of himself appears behind him, his head staying completely still, scaring the hell out of you. “It’s exciting… knowing that there are  _ endless _ possibilities waiting for you.” Then everything changes again. You aren’t in a different scene, but his body is moving so quickly that it looks like he’s pulling his own soul out of himself, breaking a part of himself off. “ **_I can give you anything!_ ** ” 

You’re too scared to say anything, looking him in the eyes for a moment (which seems to calm him in that single moment that yours meet his) before he goes back to normal, his body relaxed and his face contorted into that sinister smile he loves so much. 

“I’ve been waiting a long time to get some…  _ personal time _ between us,” he says, his hand stretching toward you. You’re about to grab it before he goes back to shouting, causing you to shrink back in your seat in fear. “ **_There is nothing you or he can do to stop me!”_ **

_ ‘...Stop you from doing what, though, _ ’ you think to yourself, your eyes glued to him as he calms down once more.

“So, now that we are here together, we should  _ really _ get to  _ know each other _ .” His eyes look you up and down, hunger lingering all throughout them the entire time. He places his hand on yours before continuing. “You just need to let me in. It’s as simple as that.”

You’re taken somewhere else now, but you don’t recognize it. It’s a seemingly abandoned parking lot, where your vision continues to blur, but at least you can now make out a setting and see the buildings around you.

“You’re never  _ ever _ going to escape. Now now, not—” Cutting him off, someone tackles him, wrapping their arms around him to pull him back and away from you. He is spun around by a man who seems to be Mark, but you can’t really tell with all the movement going on. “What the hell? Where did you come from?!”

“Let’s see how you fight with a bag over your head!” Mark pulls out a black bag and puts it over the other man’s head, then the other man pulls a black bag out as well. What are the odds…

“Two can play at that game, Mister,” he mumbles, then putting that bag over Mark’s head. The two then go at each other, throwing punches and blows as much as possible, but you mix them up, unable to tell one from the other. One pulls out a gun, but drops it in the fight, leaving it in front of you. They separate from each other and look at you, helplessly shouting insults at the other, trying to get to you shoot the other.

“Shut it! Just… Let me think, dammit!” You pick the gun up and aim it at one, then switching to the other, letting them know you were in charge in this moment. They go silent, glaring at the other. One goes to move towards you, the left one, so you panic and let out a scream, pulling the trigger in his direction. “...Oh  _ fuck _ , I just shot someone!” You drop the gun in horror, not bothering to look up when you hear footsteps running towards you. The man left takes you in his arms, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, seeming thankful that you’re okay.

—

“You made the right call. Come here, it’s okay... it’s okay.” He envelopes you in his arms, slowly leading you off, leaving the gun, body, and black bags behind in the parking lot. You don’t pay attention to him and his rambling much as he leads you to an ice cream place down the street to make up for it. “Oh man, I am  _ so _ sorry, are you okay? You had to… kill somebody… I feel so bad. But hey, it’s okay, we’re here now, and we can continue the date with some ice cream.”

“Bonjour,” the man behind the counter greets, looking oddly like the man that was at the theatre earlier. You shake it off and look up at your date, not knowing what you want, hoping he gets the message. He nods and turns to the man behind the counter.

“Bonjour! Uh, two please!” He hold up two fingers and the man nods, rushing to get your ice cream. “It’s going to be alright, just relax. We’ll enjoy some nice, dairy-based treats, and, uh, get to know each other! Really personally,” he says as he sits down across from you, smiling over at you. Pausing for a moment, he looks between you and your ice cream. “Go ahead!” He doesn’t touch his own, so you just look down at yours uncomfortably, not liking the all-too-familiar smile on his face.

“Um, Mark, this isn’t, uh… Why didn’t we just get the same thing?” By the end of your question, your vision is blurring again and blue and red are clashing to claim dominance over your sight. “What the f—”

“Oops… Looks like you made the wrong choice… but now we’re going to be together…  **_forever_ ** ,” he says, his hand flying across the table to grab yours, sliding up to your wrists before jerking you away from the small table. A small yelp escapes you and you try to get away from him, but his grip tightens and soon enough, it feels like your hand was going to pop off, so you give up on struggling.

“W-What… What’s your name…? If I’m going to, uh—” You clear your throat and mock his voice. “—Together  **_forever_ ** ?”

“Dark. My name is Dark. But you can call me Sir or Master because I’d rather tear your jaw off than get personal with something like  _ you _ .”

“Something like me? Excuse me?”

“Like a  _ human _ , what the fuck did you think I meant?”

You’re silent, not giving him the pleasure of clarification. And you stay that way as he transports you to the place you’ll be staying for a while, you feel. Upon arriving you hear him mumble, “Typical human”.

—

It’s a dark, wet basement with a chair in the center, tables full of different types of materials and tools and… was that a whip?

“You’ll stay here. I’ll bring you things you’ll need because you’re a weak human and you can’t survive as I can. If you ever need anything, just shout or knock on that—” He points to a large metal door with bolts and locks all over the place. “— door. Any questions?”

“No…”

“No…?”

“No,  _ Sir _ ,” you say, your voice venomous and sassy. His eyes grow fierce and he roughly slaps you across the face, sending you to the floor.

“Little bitch. Don’t get cocky with me, I can still kill you anytime I want.”

And with that he left you, bruised and regretting picking that black silhouette.

_ Son of a— he didn’t even let me eat any ice cream! _


End file.
